Catholic Girl
by blackflame28
Summary: Thoughts when I am not strong enough *new Jan9* ~new poem is in "chapter one"~
1. Critics

Sometimes

I feel that

I'm on the outside

looking in.

I see myself

Through the glass

wishing I could be strong.

Like a duck

shrug off 

the rain

And have 

nothing bother me.

I have it easy

My life isn't hard

but thrust

into your world

I feel inadequate.

I want to live out my dream

but the critiques hurt me

(i feel like such a whiner)

so I want to run

(i feel like such a baby)

improve and fix

(hide little baby! hide!)

or give up altogether.

I believed

this was my gift

from God

I believed

that this

what He wanted me to be.

Could I be wrong?

How could I be wrong?

Writing

since I was six

I feel like such a whiner

I feel like such a baby

I feel like I am losing.   


	2. Catholic Girl

She walks down the street, deep in thought. She had to get off her bus; this gives her time to think. Her black hair blows behind her; she doesn't care. Tears fill her eyes as she thinks about the day. She looks at her sweater that she is wearing and let her finger trace over the words: Catholic High School. Catholic, as in Christian. Why doesn't it feel like it? Why is her school just like a public school? The students make fun of Christians. They used to play Christian worship music in the morning and she use to enjoy it. With her friends she was smile and hum as her favourite songs would play. Those songs would make her happy. Songs that praised the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. She would walk into her classroom, with a smile, just because that song was on. But as the class passed her mood disappeared. The students mocked the songs and wanted secular music instead. She hid her liking of the songs and she felt horrible. Why, in this school that was supposed to held Christian values, did she feel like she had to hide her beliefs? But the students weren't all to blame; her teachers didn't seem to hold the beliefs of a Christian. Her first period teacher laughed when during a prayer when it was said that Jesus was the truth, the way and the light. She wanted to shout out 'John 14:6' but she was afraid of the ridicule. Why didn't her teacher know this? Wasn't he supposed to have some background knowledge of the faith?

She glances down at her uniform shirt and feels the strong urge to hide the Catholic part of the sweater. She feels horrible. As she walks down the street, faster down, as if to outrun her thoughts, she recalls what the writer Paul said in one of his letters: I will not be ashamed of the Gospels, of my faith. Was that what she was feeling? Is that why she couldn't speak freely of her Lord? Did that explain why she felt so weird after handing in a collection of poems to her teacher and half of them being about her Lord? Why in a lot of her English essays she mentioned her faith? Or quoted the Bible? Why did she have this feeling that in a Catholic High School, one which was supposed to have Christian beliefs, she could not be free?

She knows a lot of this is her problem. She closes her eyes and stops for a moment. Opening her eyes she looks at the changing trees around her. Her Lord did this. Her Lord made the Earth beautiful. She wanted to make Him proud of her. She knew that she would never be good enough but her Lord accepted her anyway. She didn't see that as a reason to give up but as a reason to try harder. He DIED for her. Died. And not an easy death. Not one which He died quickly but with nails and a cross. Pain, blood and mockery. She touches her silver cross which hangs on her neck. She recalls a school play that she watched last year. A character asked why do Christians wear something that once was a sign of pain? She knows the answer: it was now a sign of freedom.

She shakes her head, trying to get back on topic: her sinfulness. Never would she be good enough. But she wanted to do what she was able to; she wanted to try to follow God's laws to the best of her ability. But this society made it hard. As a child she loved Hallowe'en, and what child did not? Free candy and costumes! But now that she was older and understood the reason behind the candy- covered holiday, how could she, in the right mind, dress up? This holiday glorifies demons. Demons, the enemy of God. But if she didn't celebrate the holiday with her friends she felt left out and sort of like a loser. Other similar topics come to her mind. Swearing was also forbidden and she knew she probably shouldn't enjoy violent movies or movies with sex… but what else were left? What else could she do that wasn't lame? She quickly thinks of her parent's church. They were all so perky and annoying. True, they were fill with God's love but they were annoying and she couldn't stand half of them. She didn't want to be a lame Christian. But was there another choice, without sinning?

As she walks down the street, nearing her house, she realises there is no one she can told to about her fears and worries. No one understands or cares. Hell, her friends told her to what she felt was right but that wasn't the point! That point is what fun sinless things are there? Okay, she tries to think of them in her head: bowling, pool, card games, board games… children movies? Just hanging out with her friends was another option. She mentally screams. This was so hard! She loved God so much but... she couldn't finish that statement. There shouldn't be a _but_.

Utter confusion was in her mind as she enters her house. She calls a hello to whoever was home and lets the fretful thoughts leave her mind for the time being. 


End file.
